“Perhaps Mrs. Hudson is entertaining,” I said, reaching for the pipe-rack.
But low voices on the stairs, followed by footfalls in the passage, put the lie to this assumption. A moment later there came a light rap on the door.
“Come in,” cried Holmes.
The door opened and Mrs. Hudson appeared. “There’s a young lady to see you, sir,” she said. “I told her it was late, and that she should make an appointment for tomorrow, but she said it was most urgent.”
“By all means, show her in,” Holmes replied, rising once again to his feet.
A moment later, a young woman was in our sitting room. She was wearing a long travelling coat of fashionable cut, along with a veiled hat.
“Pray have a seat,” Holmes said, ushering her towards the most comfortable chair with his usual courtesy.
The woman thanked him, undid her coat and removed her hat, and sat down. She was possessed of a pleasing figure and a refined carriage, and a decided air of self-possession. The only blemish of which I was aware was that her features seemed rather severe, but that may have been the result of the anxiety that was present in her face. As was my custom, I tried to apply Holmes’s methods of observation to this stranger, but was unable to notice anything of particular value, aside from the Wellington travelling boots she wore.
I became aware that Holmes was regarding me with some amusement. “Other than the fact that our guest comes from Northumberland,” he told me, “that she is a devoted horsewoman, that she arrived here by hansom cab rather than the Underground — and that she is engaged to be married — I can deduce little myself.”
“I have heard of your famed methods, Mr. Holmes,” said the young woman before I could answer. “And I expected something like this. Allow me, please, to deduce your deductions.”
Holmes gave a slight nod, an expression of surprise registering on his face.
The woman held up her hand. “First, you noted my engagement ring but saw no wedding band.”
An affirmative incline of the head.
She kept her hand raised. “And you perhaps remarked on the half-moon callus along the outer edge of my right wrist, precisely where the reins cross when held by someone of good seat, with riding crop in hand.”
“A most handsome callus,” said Holmes.
“As for the hansom cab, that should be obvious enough. You saw it pull to the kerb. For my part, I saw you standing in the window.”
At this, I had to laugh. “It looks as if you’ve met your match, Holmes.”
“As for Northumberland, I would guess you noted a trace of accent in my speech?”
“Your accent is not precisely of Northumberland,” Holmes told her, “but rather contains a suggestion of Tyne and Wear, perhaps of the Sunderland area, with an overlay of Staffordshire.”
At this the lady evinced surprise. “My mother’s people were from Sunderland, and my father’s from Staffordshire. I wasn’t aware I had retained a hint of either accent.”
“Our modes of speech are bred in the bone, madam. We cannot escape them any more than we can the colour of our eyes.”
“In that case, how did you know I came from Northumberland?”
Holmes pointed at the woman’s footwear. “Because of your Wellingtons. I would surmise you began your journey in snow. We have not had rain in the last four days; Northumberland is the coldest county in England; and it is the only one presently with snow still on the ground.”
“And how would you know there is snow in Northumberland?” I asked Holmes.
Holmes gestured at a nearby copy of The Times, a pained expression on his face. “Now, madam, do me the kindness of telling us your name and how we may be of assistance.”
“My name is Victoria Selkirk,” the woman said. “And my impending marriage is, in large part, why I am here.”
“Do go on,” Holmes said, relapsing into his seat.
“Please forgive my calling on you without prior notice,” Miss Selkirk said. “But the fact is I don’t know who else to turn to.”
Holmes took a sip of his brandy and waited for the young lady to continue.
“My fiancé’s estate, Aspern Hall, is situated a few miles outside Hexham. My mother and I have taken a cottage on the grounds in preparation for the wedding. Over the last few months, the region has been plagued by a ferocious wolf.”
“A wolf?” I remarked in surprise.
Miss Selkirk nodded. “To date it has killed two men.”
“But wolves are extinct in Britain,” I said.
“Not necessarily, Watson,” Holmes told me. “Some believe they still exist in the most remote and inaccessible locales.” He turned back to Miss Selkirk. “Tell me about these killings.”
“They were savage, as would be expected of a wild beast.” She hesitated. “And — increasingly — the creature seems to be developing a taste for its victims.”
“A man-eating wolf?” I said. “Extraordinary.”
“Perhaps,” Holmes replied. “Yet it is not beyond the bounds of possibility. Consider the example of the man-eating lions of Tsavo. When other game is scarce — and you will recall the severity of last winter — carnivores will adapt in order to survive.” He glanced at Miss Selkirk. “Have there been eyewitnesses?”
“Yes. Two.”
“And what did they report having seen?”
“A huge wolf, retreating into the forest.”
“What was the distance from which these observations were made?”
“Both were made across a blanket bog…I would say several hundred yards.”
Holmes inclined his head. “By day or by night?”
“By night. With a moon.”
“And were there any particular distinguishing characteristics of this wolf, besides its great size?”
“Yes. Its head was covered in white fur.”
“White fur,” Holmes repeated. He put his fingertips together and fell silent for a moment. Then he roused himself and addressed the young woman again. “And how, exactly, can we be of help?”
“My fiancé, Edwin, is the heir to the Aspern estate. The Aspern family is the most prominent in that vicinity. Given the fear that has gripped the countryside, he feels it necessary to take onto himself the task of destroying this beast before it kills yet again. He has been going out into the forest at night, often alone. Even though he is armed, I’m terrified for his safety and fear that some misfortune may befall him.”
“I see. Miss Selkirk—” Holmes continued, now a little severely— “I fear that I am unable to assist you. What you need are the services of a game hunter, not a consulting detective.”
The anxiety on Miss Selkirk’s features deepened. “But I had heard of your successful close with that dreadful business at Baskerville Hall. That is why I came to you.”
“That business, my dear woman, was the work of a man, not a beast.”
“But…” Miss Selkirk hesitated. Her air of self-possession grew more tenuous. “My fiancé is most determined. He feels it an obligation because of his station in life. And his father, Sir Percival, hasn’t seen fit to prevent him. Please, Mr. Holmes. There is no one else who can help me.”
Holmes took a sip of his brandy; he sighed, rose, took a turn round the room, then sat down again. “You mentioned the wolf was seen retreating into a forest,” he said. “May I assume you are speaking of Kielder Forest?”
Miss Selkirk nodded. “Aspern Hall abuts it.”
“Did you know, Watson,” Holmes said, turning to me, “that Northumberland’s Kielder Forest is the largest remaining wooded area in England?”
“I did not,” I replied.
“And that it is famed, in part, for housing the country’s last large remaining population of the Eurasian red squirrel?”